Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Every Cent In Camp You will receive an email shortly to confirm your email address. Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Every Cent In Camp title details and video sharing options now playing Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Every Cent In Camp A portion of the famous attempt by Luke (Paul Newman), coached by Dragline (George Kennedy), to eat fifty hard-boiled to eggs win a prison bet in Cool Hand Luke, 1967. View the TCMDb entry for Cool Hand Luke (1967) share video Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Every Cent... A portion of the famous attempt by Luke (Paul Newman),... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip)...

Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Every Cent In Camp A portion of the famous attempt by Luke (Paul Newman), coached by Dragline (George Kennedy), to eat fifty hard-boiled to eggs win a prison bet in Cool Hand Luke, 1967.> Cool Hand Luke - (Original Trailer) A free-spirited convict refuses to conform to chain-gang... Paul Newman plays a free-spirited... Cool Hand Luke - (Original Trailer) "A free-spirited convict refuses to conform to chain-gang life in Cool Hand Luke (1967), starring Paul Newman & George Kennedy."> Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Take Them... The escaped Luke (Paul Newman), chained and pursued by... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip)... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Take Them Stripes Off Your Pants?

The escaped Luke (Paul Newman), chained and pursued by bloodhounds, gets help from two neighborhood kids in Cool Hand Luke, 1967, from the novel by Donn Pearce.> TCM Remembers Paul Newman -- (TCM Original) Actor Paul Newman (1925-2008) is the subject of this "TCM... TCM Remembers Paul Newman -- (TCM Original) Actor Paul Newman (1925-2008) is the subject of this "TCM Remembers" original. > Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Somebody... Inmates played by Ralph Waite, Lou Antonio, Dennis Hopper,... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip)... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Somebody Oughta Stop This Thing Inmates played by Ralph Waite, Lou Antonio, Dennis Hopper, Wayne Rogers and J.D.

Cannon are in the crowd as Luke (Paul Newman) takes a pounding from Dragline (George Kennedy in his Academy Award-winning role) in Cool Hand Luke, 1967.> Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke (1967) Ben Mankiewicz introduces Cool Hand Luke, 1967. Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke... Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke (1967) Ben Mankiewicz introduces Cool Hand Luke, 1967. > Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke (1967) Ben Mankiewicz introduces Cool Hand Luke, 1967. Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke... Ben Mankiewicz Intro -- Cool Hand Luke (1967) Ben Mankiewicz introduces Cool Hand Luke, 1967. > Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) You Better... Director Stuart Rosenberg's evocative opening, introducing... Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip)...

Cool Hand Luke (1967) -- (Movie Clip) You Better Come Along With Us Director Stuart Rosenbergs evocative opening, introducing Paul Newman in the title role committing his rather allegorical crime from the original novel by one-time Florida inmate Donn Pearce, from Cool Hand Luke, 1967. > no man can eat 50 eggs - YouTube no man can eat 50 eggs Want to watch this again later? Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. The interactive transcript could not be loaded. Loading... Rating is available when the video has been rented. This feature is not available right now. Please try again later. Published on Jul 23, 2014 EGGSELLENT! The famous scene from the infamous film Cool Hand Luke, where they bet to see if Luke can eat 50 eggs! Category Cool Hand puke - Salon.com Friday, Apr 6, 2007 11:02 AM UTC Cool Hand puke Paul Newman's famous film character proved his manly mettle by eating 50 hard-boiled eggs in one hour.

But when I tried to match him with Cadbury Creme Eggs, all I proved was my bad taste. Topics: Easter , Food , Life News Every spring, in the aisles of some local hypermarket, my eyes attend, my nose wrinkles — my very innards stand up — at the sight and smell of a certain Easter treat, no doubt beloved by many, a product of the Hershey Co., the New World licensee of the Cadbury-Schweppes carbohydrate conglomerate. Let Proust have his buttery morsel, dipped in Aunt Leonie’s lime-blossom tisane. My memory — and my Weltschmerz — are inextricably tied to a different scallop-ridged sweet: the Cadbury Creme Egg. You know the one. You’ve had a bite perhaps, and taken a moment to admire the ingenuity of Britain’s food scientists. (Invented in 1971, the thing is “still unique in the confectionery marketplace as the only product which closely resembles a real egg,” crows the Cadbury Web site.) Then you’ve put the uneaten half down, maybe for later.

You’re no health nut, but you are a reasonable person — and let’s face it, a full ounce of sugar oozing from a cheap chocolate shell is hard to stomach. Maybe in your reckless youth you might have tried to down the whole thing. And of course, it’s precisely there — to my misspent youth — that those foul yet seductive little sucrose bombs lead me, too. As so many tales of humiliation do, this one begins during a college spring break. It was many years ago, in the innocent days before the founding of the International Federation of Competitive Eating and gross-out shows like “Fear Factor” began clogging the airwaves. A friend (I’ll call him Satan) and I were killing time in a dormitory, watching a VHS of the old Paul Newman film “Cool Hand Luke.” Those familiar with the film will remember the scene in which Newman, in the eponymous role, proves his manly mettle to the prison gang of which he is a member by eating 50 hard-boiled eggs in one hour.

After he completes the feat, he lies shirtless and bloated, in an oddly cruciform pose, abandoned by the audience that so enthusiastically bet (mostly against him) during the frenzied ovo-orgy. A beatific smile crosses his face, evidence of some inner ecstasy, the nirvana of a man who has learned something about freedom despite his captivity. I watched his grinning face, and with confidence made of a fast metabolism plus a few beers, I said to my friend, “I could do that.” Satan eyed the heaves of Paul’s distended gut, and replied, “I’ll take that bet.” “I’m not sure I’d want to eat all that cholesterol, though. I have a family history,” I objected, sounding less Newman-esque by the second. “What about an equal volume of egg whites?” No go. Not as gross, he said. We wracked our brains to find an acceptably revolting, low-cholesterol substitution. I wish I could say that I understand how we reasoned that 30 Cadbury Creme Eggs would be a healthier equivalent to 50 chicken eggs, but I don’t.

Maybe marketing got us — it was nearing Easter, and the Creme Eggs would have been in every store display. In any case, the die was cast. We set a date, two weeks into the future, where the scene would be reenacted, with skinny me in the role of buff Paul, and gooey, cloying Cadbury in the role of the incredible, edible egg. I trained hard over those weeks. I built up my confidence, in a cafeteria montage worthy of the Rocky franchise. I had long prided myself on my eating abilities, associated them in my mind with an unconquerable lust for life (rather than, say, an absurd, gluttonous machismo). In the past, I had won taco contests, buffet throw-downs, refill wars. So I knew I had the will. Now I had to develop the way. I was spending two hours on every meal at the dining hall. I charged up my tray four, five times, totaling what must have been 3,000, 4,000 calories in a sitting. My stomach was enormous. Word was getting around, too; ours was a small campus.

My friend Satan seemed bent on re-creating the scene exactly, down to the jeering, predatory onlookers. On the appointed day, 20 or 30 people showed up to watch, some total strangers. A betting pool was established. Satan insisted I take off my shirt. The eggs were lined up, unwrapped, and placed in egg cartons. Only two and a half cartons — they looked so small. So easy. I had a huge jug of water handy, the only drink permitted. The plan was to down one egg every two minutes. It hardly seemed like a challenge. After the first one, they no longer tasted good. After the third, they were unpleasant, and I was worried. After the seventh, they were repulsive, and I feared humiliation. Merely wafting the chocolate within an inch of my nose provoked a bodywide gag reflex. I had to run for the bathroom around the 13th — but as Satan, who attended to his role as rule monitor with diligence, will attest, I kept the eggs down. I tried not to move.

Eventually, I hobbled back to the lounge, where the mood had swung from wild to worried, and I saw my pitiable state reflected in my audience’s faces. Nausea became vertigo. I could not stop shaking. Stop, they pleaded. I will not, I said to myself. At that point, I was still on pace. Thirteen Creme Eggs, 26 minutes. For the remainder of the hour, I managed to eat and keep down two more, exactly half of the goal. Still I felt rather proud. It is amazing how readily the human psyche will accept lowered expectations. The bettors, who now felt guilty about any involvement in this sick debacle, had already begun to slink away. Satan refunded the winners, the faithless ones who bet against me, and closed my hand over the rest of the money, as a gesture of pity and contrition. I think it came to about $14. It is a testament to how low I had been laid that I took the money. The full extent of my naiveté had yet to be revealed, however. I would have been better off vomiting.

I’d thought the challenge was a matter of indomitable will, of the rebellion of the gut, and by extension the man, against the confinements of the “normal.” I thought it was a matter of simple volume, of proving that man was bigger, of spirit and of stomach, than the world took him for. But I was wrong. Fifteen Cadbury Creme Eggs add up to only 2,250 calories: no problem. Those calories are provided, however, by 375 grams of carbohydrates, 330 of them sugars, and 75 grams of fat, 45 of them saturated. (It is worth noting, as an aside, that they contained less than 75 milligrams of cholesterol — not even 15 percent of what the FDA says you can eat in one day.) In the end, it was the one-two punch of sugar and fat that did me in, and that would have defeated any amount of stomach capacity and sheer desire. The fat, with its potent, sickly, chocolate odor, would not let me forget what I was doing while I was doing it. And the sugar made sure I paid for what I had done long after I had stopped.

A diabetic friend recognized my symptoms as hyperglycemia: uncontrollable jitters, intense thirst, fatigue, confusion and numbness, then pins and needles in the extremities. Satan’s punishment for enabling this horror was to spend the day’s remaining hours walking me around the campus, trying to help me burn some of those calories and regain control of my body and mind. In the years since, the story has been retold many times, by me and by others. I used to finish its telling with a flourish of face-saving braggadocio, challenging any man alive to finish more than 15 of those damn eggs in an hour. But I know better now. The world — and the Web — is lousy with more seasoned stomach-stuffers. Surely someone can do it, and will. Sonya “the Black Widow” Thomas has already put Cool Hand Luke to shame, downing 65 hard-boiled eggs in six minutes and 40 seconds. Gawker.com recently chronicled a shockingly similar (and independently conceived, from what I can tell) contest wherein two Maxim interns each attempted 50 Creme Eggs, though they had all day to do it (and failed as miserably as I).

People who hear the story, or who were present at its making, often ask whether I’ve been able to come within 10 feet of a Cadbury Creme Egg since then, and they’re always surprised to hear that I have. I’ve eaten maybe three or four over the years. My senses are forgiving. It’s the memory that isn’t. Food has always had a central role in my life, and since college I’ve eaten at Michelin-three-star restaurants, cooked professionally in high-end kitchens, and tried to work out how, with moderation and simplicity, to connect the act of eating and the pleasures of free will, Michael Pollan -style. These days, when I eat, or see, or smell one of those choco-abominations, I am reminded not only of how young and dumb I once was, but of how even our most asinine challenges, our most trivial, most physical experiences, are now wrapped up in the multicolored foil of factory packaging. Cool Hand Luke achieved a bliss of self-mastery with good old natural eggs. Proust ate hand-baked madeleines and recovered an authentic moment of experience and sensory glory, tinged with universal loss. Me?

I found minor infamy by gorging myself on empty calories developed in a laboratory, whose ingredients contain the word “artificial” no fewer than three times. Most of the year, then, I wish that my tale of youthful hubris and pointless, world-chomping aspiration could be about eating real eggs, perhaps poached or soft-boiled. Or even better, about a classic French pastry with a debonair name — madeleine, eclair, canéle — downed with coffee in Voltairean proportions. But around Easter time, every year, I submit to the memory, however sophomoric, however abject, and I nod to that perfect oval of nastiness, the Cadbury Creme Egg. Because sometimes, memory itself is the guilty pleasure. I. Chang lives in Los Angeles.

The Celluloid Pantry: 50 Hard-Boiled Eggs on a Bet and Cool Hand Luke (1967) | The Kitchn The Celluloid Pantry: 50 Hard-Boiled Eggs on a Bet and Cool Hand Luke (1967) The Celluloid Pantry: 50 Hard-Boiled Eggs on a Bet and Cool Hand Luke (1967) Email "If my boy says he can eat fifty eggs, he can eat fifty eggs!" In the days surrounding Passover and Easter, more eggs are bought and consumed in this country than during any other season. In Cool Hand Luke (1967) , Lucas "Luke" Jackson (Paul Newman) swallows down a year's worth in under an hour. An enigmatic free-spirit, Luke is doing time in a rural southern prison after lopping off the tops of a row of municipal parking meters in a drunken prank. Behind bars, the rules are strict and simple. No smoking in bed unless both feet are on the floor. Each man is issued a spoon, which he is to keep on him at all times. Appetites are fierce after a day's hard labor digging ditches and building roads.

Food is nothing more than fuel: beans and cornbread or biscuits and gravy served on a tin plate. The men catch the occasional bird or turtle while working outdoors. But leave it to Luke to shake things up. When, one night, his old sparring partner turned friend, Dragline (George Kennedy), boasts that Luke can eat anything, "busted bottles, rusty nails," Luke impulsively wagers he can eat fifty eggs in an hour, reasoning it's a good round number. The men all clamor to place their bets. Dragline becomes Luke's "trainer," taking him out to the yard to work up an appetite ("What we gotta do is stretch that little ol' belly of yours. Get all this stuff out of the way. Them eggs are coming down!"), running speed-eating drills, and, during the event, peeling off the shells and cheering his athlete on: "Just nine more between you and everlastin' glory….Just little ol' eggs. They pigeon eggs, that's all." In the final seconds of the hour, Luke's egg-eating has slowed to a dry-mouthed crawl. Dragline eases the last one between Luke's lips and works his jaw for him with his hands.

Time is up, but did Luke swallow? No spoilers here…. Hard-boiled eggs, of course, really shouldn't be boiled at all (unless you prefer rubbery whites and grayish yolks). For tender whites with dazzling centers, follow the directions (and the lively discussion) in this earlier post . 50 Eggs - Paul Newman - YouTube 50 Eggs - Paul Newman Want to watch this again later? Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. Rating is available when the video has been rented. This feature is not available right now. Please try again later. Uploaded on Sep 30, 2008 This man altered millions of trajectories, mine was one of them. A small tribute/eulogy for Paul Newman using Cool Hand Luke footage. Category Cool Hand Luke (1967) - Quotes - IMDb Cool Hand Luke (1967) Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options [Luke won a game of poker on a bluff] Dragline : Nothin'. A handful of nothin'. You stupid mullet head. He beat you with nothin'.

Just like today when he kept comin' back at me - with nothin'. Luke : Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand. Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options Captain : What we've got here is... failure to communicate. Some men you just can't reach. So you get what we had here last week, which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it. I don't like it any more than you men. Boss: Sorry, Luke. I'm just doing my job. You gotta appreciate that. Luke : Nah - calling it your job don't make it right, Boss. Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options Dragline : He was smiling... That's right. You know, that, that Luke smile of his. He had it on his face right to the very end. Hell, if they didn't know it 'fore, they could tell right then that they weren't a-gonna beat him. That old Luke smile. Oh, Luke. He was some boy. Cool Hand Luke. Hell, he's a natural-born world-shaker. Dragline : Why you got to go and say fifty eggs for?

Why not thirty-five or thirty-nine? Luke : I thought it was a nice round number. Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options Dog Boy : Well, lookie here. I knew they'd get you. Them chains and a bonus of a couple of years... Your running days are over forever, boy. Hell, I'd like to see you try to run again. You know, you getting so you smell so bad I can track you myself. Luke : Yeah, well, that ought to be easy for a genuine son of a bitch. Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options Carr : Them clothes got laundry numbers on them. You remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number. Any man forgets his number spends a night in the box. These here spoons you keep with you. Any man loses his spoon spends a night in the box. There's no playing grab-ass or fighting in the building. You got a grudge against another man, you fight him Saturday afternoon. Any man playing grab-ass or fighting in the building spends a night in the box. First bell's at five minutes of eight when you will get in your bunk. Last bell is at eight.

Any man not in his bunk at eight spends the night in the box. There is no smoking in the prone position in bed. To smoke you must have both legs over the side of your bunk. Any man caught smoking in the prone position in bed... spends a night in the box. You get two sheets. Every Saturday, you put the clean sheet on the top... the top sheet on the bottom... and the bottom sheet you turn in to the laundry boy. Any man turns in the wrong sheet spends a night in the box. No one'll sit in the bunks with dirty pants on. Any man with dirty pants on sitting on the bunks spends a night in the box. Any man don't bring back his empty pop bottle spends a night in the box. Any man loud talking spends a night in the box. You got questions, you come to me. I'm Carr, the floor walker. I'm responsible for order in here. Any man don't keep order spends a night in... [Discussing God and the rain] Luke : Let him go. Bam, Bam. Dragline : Knock it off, Luke. You can't talk about Him that way.

Luke : Are you still believin' in that big bearded Boss up there? You think he's watchin' us? Dragline : Get in here. Ain't ya scared? Ain't ya scared of dyin'? Luke : Dyin'? Boy, he can have this little life any time he wants to. Do ya hear that? Are ya hearin' it? Come on. You're welcome to it, ol' timer. Let me know you're up there. Come on. Love me, hate me, kill me, anything. Just let me know it. [He looks around] Share this: Facebook | Twitter | Permalink Hide options Luke : Anybody here? Hey, Old Man. You home tonight? Can You spare a minute. It's about time we had a little talk. I know I'm a pretty evil fellow... killed people in the war and got drunk... and chewed up municipal property and the like. I know I got no call to ask for much... but even so, You've got to admit You ain't dealt me no cards in a long time. It's beginning to look like You got things fixed so I can't never win out. Inside, outside, all of them...

rules and regulations and bosses. You made me like I am. Now just where am I supposed to fit in? Old Man, I gotta tell You. I started out pretty strong and fast. But it's beginning to get to me. When does it end? What do You got in mind for me? What do I do now? Right. All right. [Gets on knees, closes eyes and begins to pray] Luke : . On my knees, asking. [Peeks up with one eye, waits. Then opens eyes and crosses arms] Luke : . Yeah, that's what I thought. I guess I'm pretty tough to deal with, huh? A hard case. [Clicks tongue] Luke : . Yeah. I guess I gotta find my own way. [Headlights shine through windows, backs up] What if you really ate 50 eggs like in 'Cool Hand Luke'? | HowStuffWorks What if you really ate 50 eggs like in 'Cool Hand Luke'? Eating 50 eggs in less than an hour is possible, but not everyone can stomach it like Cool Hand Luke. © Sean De Burca/Corbis The 1967 movie "Cool Hand Luke," starring Paul Newman, is a classic.

In this jailhouse film, Newman plays Lucas "Cool Hand Luke" Jackson, a sort of antihero who constantly challenges authority and never steps down from a fight or a bet. The most famous bet in "Cool Hand Luke" is the one about 50 eggs. For the uninitiated, the bet happens when Cool Hand Luke brags to his fellow inmates that he can eat 50 hard-boiled eggs in one hour. His boast is met with one of the more famous lines in the movie: "Nobody can eat 50 eggs." The inmates bet him all their money that he can't do it (and he's not allowed to throw up, either). But Cool Hand Luke manages to pull it off, finishing all 50 eggs (about six pounds!) just under the one-hour deadline. Although our guy wins, it's not a pleasant scene to watch. Keep Digesting Why do farts stink? This got us wondering. What would happen if you ate 50 eggs? Would your stomach explode? Would you vomit? Worse? Let's get this out of the way first: You can eat 50 eggs. And you can do it in less than an hour.

You probably shouldn't, but it's possible. Competitive eater Joey Chestnut holds the world record for eating hard-boiled eggs. Chestnut put Cool Hand Luke to shame, too, by devouring 141 eggs in eight minutes in October 2013 [source: MLE ]. But what happens to a noncompetitive-eating body if you shove it full of 50 eggs? Fifty hard-boiled eggs, as we stated before, is about six pounds of eggs. A typical human stomach can actually hold all those eggs, as demonstrated in an episode of the Food Network's "Food Detectives." Of course, 50 eggs are also about 3,850 calories, so you'd feel pretty full afterward [source: YouTube ]. Your digestive system will certainly take a hit. First, you'll need to produce a lot of saliva to eat that many eggs, or you'll need a lot of water on hand. Then, once your stomach is stretched to its limits, your gastric glands will start secreting acids to break down the eggs. The acids move into the intestines slowly, so count on the eggs remaining in your stomach for a good three and a half hours.

The ingested food will then hang out in your large intestine for about 36 hours. That means 36 hours of probable gastric distress, resulting in possibly the worst hydrogen sulfide gas you've ever experienced. FYI, hydrogen sulfide gas is also known as " farts ." Enjoy! How Does a Chicken's Egg Get Its Shell? 1 Paul Newman, as Cool Hand Luke, Eats 50 Eggs | Serious Eats Paul Newman, as Cool Hand Luke, Eats 50 Eggs 5 I was saddened to open my computer this morning and read that Paul Newman died yesterday . From great movies like The Hustler, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and The Sting, to his line of foods that benefits charity, his work will be missed by many. Our condolences go out to his friends, family, and fans. As a celebration of his life and art, we've got a great clip here after the jump. Who can ever forget the egg-eating scene in Cool Hand Luke? Nobody can eat 50 eggs—or can they?

Related: The Passing of Newman's Own Founder, Actor Paul Newman [from Talk] Paul Newman, as Cool Hand Luke, Eats 50 Eggs Cool Hand Luke (1967) Pages: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) The Story (continued) Luke's sickly, dying mother Arletta (Jo Van Fleet) visits one Sunday afternoon to say goodbye, stiffly and painfully propped up in the bed of the pickup truck - it is presumably their last time together. Driven by her respectable son John, Sr. (John Pearce), she is chain-smoking a cigarette while coughing [with lung cancer or consumptive TB?]. Arletta still cares and expresses warm affection for her wayward yet favored son - but with guarded words. Although she is disappointed about how he turned out (and feeling guilty about her role as caregiver), Luke tells her that she'd done her best raising him as a single mother.

In the tragic scene which implies much about her son's broken childhood and upbringing, the terminally-ill Arletta expresses regrets and resigns herself to "let go" of her independent-minded son who tried to live like she did - "free and above board." In the poignant conclusion to their conversation, she plans - after her death - to give her inheritance to her less-loved son John: Arletta: I always hoped to see you well fixed. Have me a crop of grandkids to fuss around with. Luke: I'd like to oblige you, Arletta, but uh, right off, I just don't know where to put my hands on it. Arletta: You know, sometimes, I wished people was like dogs, Luke. Comes a time, a day like, when the bitch just don't recognize the pups no more, so she don't have no hopes nor love to give her pain. She just don't give a damn...(She hands him the pack of cigarettes) Luke: You've done your best, Arletta. What I've done - myself is the only problem. Arletta: No, no it ain't Luke. You ain't alone.

Everywhere you go, I'm with you. John too. Luke: You never thought maybe that's a heavy load? Arletta: Aw, why, we, we always thought you was strong enough to carry it. Was we wrong? Luke: I don't know. There are things just never the way they seem, Arletta. You know that. A man's gotta go his own way. Arletta: I guess I just gotta, gotta love you and let go, hmm? Luke: I guess. Arletta: Well, I ain't askin' what ya gonna do when you get out because I'll be dead and it don't matter. Luke: You never did want to live forever. I mean, it wasn't such a hell of a life. Arletta: Oh, I had me, I had me some high old times. Your old man, Luke. He wasn't much good for stickin' around, but dammit, he made me laugh. Luke: Yeah, I would have liked to have knowed him, the way you talk about him. Arletta: (after coughing) He'd have broke you up. Luke?...What went wrong?

Luke: Nothin', everything's cool as can be. Arletta, I tried. I mean, to live always free and above board like you. And, I don't know. I just can't seem to find no elbow room. Arletta: (takes his hand) Oh now, you always had good jobs. And that girl in Kentucky. Oh, I'd taken a shine to her. Luke: And she sure took off - with that convertible fella. Arletta: Well, why not? Idea of marryin' got you all, all bollocksed-up. Tryin' to be respectable. You, you was borin' the hell out of all of us. I'm leavin' the place to John. Luke: That's good. He earned it. Arletta: Ain't nothin' to do with it. I just, I just never give John the, the kind of, you know, feelin' that I give you, so I'm, I'm gonna pay him back now. Oh, don't feel you have to say anythin'.

The way it is, you see, sometimes you just, just have a feelin' for a child...with John, I just didn't. As Luke is told his time is up for the visit, Arletta encourages him: "Laugh it up, kid. You'll, you'll make out." Luke's nephew John, Jr. (Eddie Rosson) asks why his uncle doesn't have chains, and Luke answers with experience: John, Jr.: Why can't you have chains? Luke: ...You know, them chains ain't medals. You get 'em for makin' mistakes. And you make a bad enough mistake and then you gotta deal with the man - and he is one rough old boy. OK? John, Sr. presents his brother with his last remaining possession - a banjo: "Now there ain't nothin' to come back for." [The Tramp (Harry Dean Stanton) sings the religious song Just a Closer Walk With Thee on the front steps of the bunk house, accompanying himself by strumming a guitar.] One of the detestable jobs the prisoners must perform is to shovel sandy dirt onto a newly-tarred country road that stretches out into the distance.

It is hot, back-breaking work but rebellious Luke makes a frenzied challenge out of it, spurring the prisoners on to work faster and shovel harder. Dragline urges the men to follow Luke's lead: "Use that shovel like it was your spoon...shag it, mac.. Hah!" Boss Godfrey can't walk fast enough down the center of the road to keep up with their progress. Dragline discovers that their enforced labor is fun: "I don't know whether to smile, spit, or swallow." After Luke's sabotage of the system, the guards are embarrassed that the work is completed in record time and there is nothing left to do for the rest of the day. The scene fades out on a red STOP sign. Dragline: Where'd the road go? Luke: That's it. That's the end of it. Convict: Man, there's still daylight. Dragline: About two hours left. Convict: What do we do now? Luke: Nothin'. Dragline: Oh Luke, you wild, beautiful thing. You crazy handful of nothin'.

As a prelude to the film's memorable, comic egg-eating contest scene, Dragline bets on his boy Luke: "He can eat busted bottles and rusty nails, any damned thing." Luke boldly wagers that he can eat fifty hard-boiled eggs in one hour. [The number 50 becomes significant - since there are 50 prisoners' souls and 50 eggs, Luke's ingesting of the eggs parallels Christ's taking upon himself the sins of the world and bringing about a rebirth. Eggs, the celebration of Easter, and the resurrection are symbolically tied together.] The men exuberantly bet against him, disbelieving that he can perform the miracle without throwing up: "Fifty eggs gotta weigh a good six pounds...A man's gut can't hold that. They'll swell up and bust him open....They're gonna kill him." Remarkably, Luke takes the challenge - it's raining and the activity will pass the time: "It be somethin' to do." After a period of preparatory training, stretching his stomach's skin to make room for the eggs ("What we gotta do is stretch that little ol' belly of yours. Get all this stuff out of the way.

Them eggs are coming down!"), and eating speed tests, Luke is about ready. He sits on his top bunk with a towel draped over his head [another Christ image]. Dragline readies the crowd for the contest: "All right. Stand back you pedestrians, this ain't no automobile accident." As Luke's trainer, he peels the eggs before they are eaten, arguing that Luke doesn't have to peel his own eggs within the hour limit: "When it comes to the law, nothin' is understood...I'm his official egg-peeler. That's the law!" The big event begins with Luke's entrance, the removal of his shirt, and his kneeling down in front of the men who surround a table in front of him. One of the convicts observes how quickly Luke pops each egg in his mouth: "He's gonna lose a finger eatin' eggs like that." After 32 eggs, Luke's bloated stomach bows out: "Just like a ripe watermelon that's about to bust itself open." Some of the men bet against him as Luke anoints his forehead with water.

Dragline, with Luke in cahoots with him, encourages everyone to wager everything against Luke: "I wanna hear from some big money men. Where's all the high rollers?" Society Red (J.D. Cannon) replies that everything has been bet: "I believe you've got it all, Dragline. Every cent in camp is riding." As time is running out, and Luke approaches the elusive goal of 50 eggs, Dragline coaxes him on: "Just nine more between you and everlastin' glory...Just little ol' eggs. They pigeon eggs, that's all." The men mimic his chewing action. Up until the last second, it is uncertain whether he has swallowed the last egg. After his winning victory, Luke is laid out on a table strewn with egg shells. The men quickly forget about him and abandon him after using him for their own amusement. Luke is left alone - from an overhead shot, his arms are outstretched, his legs are crossed at the ankle, his eyes are closed, and his head is tilted toward the left - [a symbolic Christ-like crucifixion pose]. An enigmatic grin crosses his face.

When a poisonous rattlesnake in the thick grass along a country road threatens the men as they chop weeds in a ditch, Luke boldly grabs for it and holds it up. The 'man with no eyes' shoots the head off the rattler with one shot from a shotgun. Luke reflects back the boss' expertise in his dark sunglasses: "Man, you sure can shoot." A booming thunderstorm breaks open the skies above the men. While the convicts are permitted to scamper to the truck for cover from the rain, Luke looks up and gestures toward the heavens. In a conversation with God, he challenges God's power over nature and his own life, but he concludes that God's existence is questionable: Luke: Let him go. Bam, Bam. Dragline: Knock it off, Luke. You can't talk about Him that way. Luke: Are you still believin' in that big bearded Boss up there? You think he's watchin' us? Dragline: Get in here. Ain't ya scared? Ain't ya scared of dyin'? Luke: Dyin'? Boy, he can have this little life any time he wants to. Do ya hear that? Are ya hearin' it? Come on.

You're welcome to it, ol' timer. Let me know you're up there. Come on. Love me, hate me, kill me, anything. Just let me know it. (He looks around) I'm just standin' in the rain talkin' to myself. Dragline pays off the bets following the egg-eating contest and he brags about Luke, his deceptively cool, witty performer: "That's my darlin' Luke. He grin like a baby, but he bites like a gater." When Luke receives notice in a telegram that his mother has died, he is given space by the inmates to pay his last respects to her in the privacy and quiet of his cell bunk. He strums on a banjo and sings a requiem for her - it's a parody of a raunchy pop-gospel tune "Plastic Jesus," a song that is about finding temporary solace with a plastic Virgin Mary: Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes, long as I got my plastic Jesus, sittin' on the dashboard of my car. Comes in colors, pink and pleasant, glows in the dark cause it's irridescent Take it with you when you travel far.

Get yourself a sweet Madonna, dressed in rhinestones sittin' on a pedestal of abalone shell Goin' ninety, I ain't scary [sic - 'wary'], 'cause I've got the Virgin Mary, assurin' me that I won't go to Hell. Get yourself a sweet Madonna, dressed in rhinestones sittin' on a pedestal of abalone shell Goin' ninety, I ain't scary, 'cause I've got the Virgin Mary, assurin' me that I won't go to Hell. Early the next morning, the Captain orders that Luke be put in the isolated, windowless prison "box" to keep him from getting "rabbit in his blood" and running to his mother's funeral to pay his last respects. As Luke is led to the cramped box, the guard is sympathetic and apologetic: "I wanna say a prayer for your Ma, Luke...Sorry, Luke. Just doin' my job. You gotta appreciate that." Luke reminds the man: "Aw, callin' it your job don't make it right, boss." He is let out after his Ma is "in the ground" and advised: "You best forget about it, Luke.

Got a day and a half lay in. Tomorrow's a holiday." That night, the men dance to loud radio music during the holiday - Luke can no longer endure confinement and rebels against the system. He saws a hole in the wooden floor of the bunkhouse. Between the first and second bell, his cohorts distract Carr with a trashy novel while Luke escapes - he's counted as missing: "one in the bush." The bloodhounds are given pieces of Luke's clothing for the scent. He eludes and confuses the dogs by wading through water, jumping fences, traversing land by wires, and criss-crossing. He is pursued into a railyard and down train tracks, but escapes by jumping off a train trestle into water. Dog Boy (Anthony Zerbe), one of the prisoners who religiously tended the bloodhounds, reluctantly returns to camp without his prey, but with a dead bloodhound in the trunk of the Sheriff's car: "He run himself plum to death." But soon, Luke is quickly captured and returned to the road gang.

To make an object lesson of the runaway, the Captain of the prison is determined to admonish and break Luke 'for his own good' in front of the other men: Captain: You're gonna get used to wearin' them chains after a while, Luke, but you'll never stop listenin' to them clinkin'. 'Cause they're gonna remind you of what I've been sayin' - for your own good. Luke: (back-talking) I wish you'd stop bein' so good to me, Captain. Captain: (enraged) Don't you ever talk that way to me. (He savagely lashes out at Luke with his stick.) Robin Benzle food and travel By Robin Benzle The first question people ask me when they find out that I spent an hour with Paul Newman over lunch at his New York apartment is; Are his eyes really that blue? The answer is, yup, as blue as a bottle of Windex. The second question people ask is; how on earth did you get an interview with him (he hadn’t done an interview in more than five years and was notorious for not signing autographs)?

When I asked him the same question, he simply said, ‘You’re not Barbara Walters.’ As we sat at a small, wooden table in his warm and antique-filled living room; a bowl of his favorite salad between us, he cordially allowed me a rare glimpse into his private world – his food world, at least. Growing up in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, Paul Newman remembers nostalgic dishes from his Hungarian mother, such as ‘great goulash, pot roast, things with noodles and mashed potatoes.’ Today, he describes his likes as those of a simple man on the street corner. He’s a salad nut, loves hamburgers, and ‘wouldn’t object eating fish through Christmas’. As for what he would fix for an anniversary dinner for Joanne? “Sliced cucumbers with caviar.” “That’s all?” I ask. “Anniversaries come around once a year, and I’m not working much,” he replies. And if he happens to ask you out for an ice cream cone, just so you know, he’s a rum raisin kind of guy.

One of his most notable eating scenes in film was in Cool Hand Luke, where he bet he could eat 50 hard-boiled eggs – and much to the discomfort of viewers, painfully did so. I wondered, as a result, can he look an omelet in the eye? “I never swallowed an egg – the magic of film,” he said. “Now, Henry Fonda – he was the best film eater of all times. He would have a garbage can next to the table during an eating scene. Then, he’d pack his cheeks just like a squirrel, never swallowing a bite, and use the same food for 8, 10, 20 shots.” Speaking of eggs, Newman sometimes gets up on Sunday mornings and fixes eggs fried in bacon grease – and he even helps with the dishes. I reach for a tortilla chip, served right out of the bag (and offered with a choice of Newman’s various salsas), take a big drink of water, and ask him the three food questions I’d been most hungry to ask. If he was going to a friend’s house for dinner, and the hosts proudly announce they are serving their finest dish – and it tastes like dog food, how would he handle it?

Without hesitating, Newman replies, “I’d bark…and then choke it down.” Who, from history, would he like to have as a dinner guest? “Well – God would be all right.” Then he described one of his most memorable dinners: “Once I had dinner with Peter Ustinov, David Niven, Princess Grace and Prince Rainier. They were all such great story-tellers and the company was so exceptional, I barely spoke a word and can’t even remember what we ate.” My final question: “Have you ever put the ice-cube tray back with one ice-cube in it?” After a penetrating glare, he answered, “I have three nooses hanging in my kitchen for offenders. It drives me crazier than anything in life. So, the answer is, NEVER!” Then he calmed down and shared two of his personal recipes with me.

Paul Newman’s Favorite Salad This Month 1 small head Bibb lettuce 2 – 3 heads Belgian endive, thinly sliced 2 medium tomatoes, diced ½ each, yellow and red bell pepper, sliced ¼ cup thinly sliced purple onion Salt and pepper to taste ½ cup Newman’s Own Olive Oil and Vinegar Dressing 6 slices crisp, cooked bacon, crumbled In a large bowl, toss together all ingredients, sprinkling crumbled bacon over the top when ready to serve. Serves 4. Slivered kosher dill pickles “Don’t make the mistake of using ground round or sirloin in this recipe,” says Newman. “Many hamburger cooks fall short of my standards because they use meat that is simply too good. I cook all my hamburgers on the outdoor grill or the indoor fireplace grill, and ground chuck is best suited to a hot, charcoal fire.” “Form the chuck into patties of the preferred size. I toss them from hand to hand to keep them fluffy. Never pat down the meat or the hamburger won’t be able to breathe while it’s cooking. Also, never put salt, pepper, or any other seasoning in the meat before cooking because that will toughen it.

The idea of adding onions, eggs, bread crumbs, or any other ingredient to the meat raises my hackles. Never confuse steak tartar with the pure hamburger.” “Prepare the charcoal and grease the grill with vegetable oil, but don’t put the meat on the fire until is a uniform grayish-white. Sear the burgers well on one side and turn them only once. After turning them, lower the grill for a brief time to sear the other side. The result: a hamburger that is crisp on the outside, tomato-red inside.” “While the Newmanburgers are cooking, toast the buns around the edge of the grill. At my house, tomatoes, sliced onion, salsa and pickles are the inevitable accompaniments. If corn is in season, it is also made part of the meal, always cooked for precisely three minutes and not a second longer in boiling, sweetened water.” “Although the Newmanburger is usually enjoyed with frosty mugs of beer, on occasional impulse I serve up a bottle of 1962 Mouton-Rothschild, and that’s when the Newmanburger tastes its best!”

Question: In which film did Paul Newman eat fifty hard boiled eggs for a bet
Answer: Cool Hand Luke